Saturday, February 21, 2015

In Which I Bless Us All, Etc.

Well. Damn. Dovey went on today. When I got up this morning she was standing by the door that has glass in it, seeming to want to get out so I took her and put her in a sunny spot under the bird feeder where the chickens have been spending most of their time these days. She stood there, so motionless and huddled that Maurice went over, sniffed her and just walked away. And a few hours later I found her in the little duck pond a few feet away, still and gone.
Shit, shit, shit. 
That's what I texted to Mr. Moon when I found her. I lifted her out of the water and buried her in the little yard of my office right next to Pearl's grave. I honestly think that something had happened to her eyesight and if so, that could explain whey she stumbled into the little pond.
Anyway, that sweet little hen will no longer be sad or sick and for that I am grateful but I am sorry to have to tell Owen who did love that bird. Mostly because she let him hold her and because she was so soft, but still. One more death he will have to incorporate. He suggested yesterday that he should maybe take her home but I pointed out that they had no place to keep her. He said that his daddy could build a fence and a coop and then both she and Nicey could come and live with them. He thought about this a moment and then he said, "Or...maybe we could just live here!"
I think this is his dream. Then all of the chickens would be his to share and better yet, he would have his Mer Mer and Boppy to accommodate his every wish.
Bless his heart.
Bless Dovey's heart.
Hell, bless us all.

Owen also asked me yesterday how babies get into their mama's tummy. I immediately thought, holy shit, this is far above my pay grade!
We had been talking about the cradle in my room that Mr. Moon made for Lily before she was born. It's a large cradle, big enough to hold two decidedly non-babies who are willing to share space.

Owen moved it yesterday so that he and Gibson could watch TV from it and he wanted to know if, when he had a baby sister, they could borrow it. I told him that they surely could, if and when he had a baby sister but that Jessie and Vergil were going to get it first.
This led to a discussion about how a baby has to grow in its mama's tummy for nine whole months and that, in turn led to his question.
"How DOES a baby get in there?"
I told him that first off, two people had to love each other very, very, very much. Which of course is one of the biggest whoppers anyone will ever tell him and I was sorry to do it but I was scrambling. He then told me that his mama better love his daddy a whole lot because he really does want a sister. I went on to explain that babies need lots of time and attention and money so that it is very important to make sure that families have enough of all of those for every baby.
He seemed to accept this and we went on from there to some other activity. Swamp adventures, as I recall, which is a whole other story.
I gave Lily a rundown of the conversation later as a head's-up via text. She responded by saying, "So now when I don't have a baby it will be because I don't love Jason enough."
As Andy Griffith used to say, "What a wicked web we weave when first we practice to deceive."
Although I wasn't trying to deceive so much as I was trying to baffle with bullshit.

Well, babies SHOULD be about love and that's the truth and so if I misrepresented one truth for another, sue me.

And there you go. Stuff that happens. Death and how-do-babies-get-in-there?
One is as mysterious and complex as another. And as simple. And as powerful.

I talked to an old friend on the phone tonight who is getting chemo and although it was hard to make the call, I knew I had to. I've been dreaming about her lately and we ended up having a very good chat with lots of laughs. She is brave and getting on with it and I love her so much and I think she is going to do very, very well and that we shall have many more good chats. I'm counting on that.

I'm going to go heat up the chicken I baked last night which was absolutely the very best baked chicken I ever made, possibly ever tasted, and a spinach and rice casserole. If Red Sky At Night, Sailors' Delight is true, tomorrow is going to be one very fine day.

At least here in Lloyd. I hope it is where you are too.

Love...Ms. Moon


  1. "Bless us all" is right, Ms Moon. I am sorry about Dovie.

  2. I'm sorry too. I told my son about the how of babies when he was four, and he accepted it in sanguine fashion and then forgot.

    We had a GREAT book a friend gave us last year, which we read at bedtime, and he read again with his dad, because, in his words, it was inportant for his dad to learn.

    It might be a wee bit old for Owen, but I really like this company for educational books, there'll be lovely ones for younger kids too.

  3. I am sorry about Dovey too. Poor baby. I kinda fell in love with her in the last couple of days too. The "lie" you told Owen is a good foundation for how you hope it will be for him. I love that he wants to come live with you. He does love his Mer and Bop!

  4. Oh honey I'm so sorry. And all the Animal Gods were in attendance. Love.

  5. so sorry to hear about Dovey. She had her warm night in the mud room.....and then she was ready to leave you. Precious girls one and all.......
    And...not sure I would have been ready for the baby in the tummy *talk* but you were fabulous!
    Susan M

  6. Owen is so young and his mind still in a gentle place. What you told him is very beautiful. We lose our innocence far too soon and what you told him makes my heart ache because yes, it is how it should be.

    Dovie. Bless her wee hen heart. So much love.

  7. I love what you told Owen. When Oliver asked me about babies, he was a bit older than Owen and far more insistent and curious, and when I did finally tell him, he was so shocked and asked me whether I'd done that with his father, and when I said, yes, he walked away shaking his head and told me "That's just wrong."

    And I'm sorry about little Dovey.

  8. I am so sorry about Dovie. I think I told my son early like Elizabeth, but I don't remember his reaction...that was a long time ago. Gail

  9. sorry to hear about your beloved dovey passing over.

    one nice thing about pets, you don't have to explain the facts of life to them.


  10. death and birth, different sides of the same coin. I think my daughter was 6 when she asked how babies got inside their mommies.

  11. jenny_o- Sometimes I think it is my job to remind us all that we are, in some way, blessed.

    Jo- Thank you for the suggestion!

    Joanne- He wants the whole family to live here, I think. Hank and May and Jessie and Vergil and of course GRETA! And his mama and daddy and brother. And possible someday sister.

    Madame King- Yes. They were. The other chickens scratched in her dirt as I dug the grave. It made me sad but I am glad she is okay now.

    Susan M- How can one ever be ready for that talk? I mean, at the very basis of all of it, sex just seems too absurd for words.

    Birdie- That is what sprang to my mind and I just said it. He is so very innocent. Which is so very lovely.

    Elizabeth- "That is just wrong." I can't help but agree with him when it's just told about. It's hard to do, give that information. "When the mommy and daddy want to get very, very close because they love each other so much..."
    A bit gaggy.

    Gail- I know I told all of my children and I can't remember how any of them reacted. Maybe I've blocked it.

    Mrs. A- AMEN! They just figure it all out themselves, don't they?

    Ellen Abbott- I know. Alpha and Omega and lots of stuff in between.

  12. Oh, no. I'm so sorry about Dovie. Bless her heart, indeed.

    The baby business. Hahaha. It's always so awful to be caught off guard. I recall explaining how our dog couldn't get pregnant from just touching another dog. When I explained what actually needed to occur, M burst into a 5-minute belly laugh. She didn't believe me. I think she was maybe 4 or 5.

  13. Oh, poor Dovey. I'm sorry. I'm sure chickens get sick with all the same sorts of things people get -- cancer and immune deficiencies and whatnot. Who knows what got her in the end. She was a sweet bird and I'm glad I got the chance to hold her.

    That baby conversation -- HA! Better you than me. I love Lily's reply to you. Hilarious.

  14. Oh Dovey. Dang it. At least she was warm her last night.

    And the baby talk with Owen. I could have peed my pants reading that. But really, what a sweet discussing. In addition to the big whopper you laid it out pretty darn well!

  15. Oh no, another chicken gone. Very sorry to read about Dovey. I feel connected to your chickens.

    I think that you are a great liar with the story. It seems to work okay but maybe think about throwing in some science with hormones, etc. Naw--that may be even more confusing. Glad that I don't have to have that conversation.


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